


issues

by YellowBeard



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 13:52:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10663977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YellowBeard/pseuds/YellowBeard
Summary: Connor Walsh doesn’t do boyfriends.Anymore.Once upon a time he had. It was the most reassuring and comfortable Connor had ever felt. Until it all turned to shit.He secretly craved the feeling of being held close and sweet whispers as the sun rose.He wished he had that. But it’s not worth the pain and heartbreak. If it happens one more time, connor’s not sure he can handle it. It might break him into millions of pieces that can’t be put together again.





	issues

**Author's Note:**

> All mistakes are mine, if anything is wrong please let me know and I'll fix it.
> 
> I'm a shitty person so this probably won't be updated until some time long into the future. 
> 
> This could be triggering so please be careful.

 

Connor Walsh doesn’t do boyfriends.

_Anymore._

Once upon a time he had. It was the most reassuring and comfortable Connor had ever felt. Until it all turned to shit.

He secretly craved the feeling of being held close and sweet whispers as the sun rose.

He wished he had that. But it’s not worth the pain and heartbreak. If it happens one more time, connor’s not sure he can handle it. It might break him into millions of pieces that can’t be put together again.

 

…

He said he loved him. That was the worst part about it all. And Connor believed it. He believed him, with all his heart.

When he allows himself to think back to that period in his life- it isn’t often, mainly when he’s fucking wasted he’ll allow himself to wallow in self-pity and think about how much of an idiot he was, how pathetic he was for believing him and letting it happen.  But he was older. What fourteen year old wouldn’t trust their older sister’s boyfriend, someone who was a constant in his life from the age of ten?

James and Gemma, the couple of the century, they were supposed to grow old together, get married; have a whole heard of children running around their house, one with a white picket fence. High school sweet hearts, prom king and queen. James was adored by the entire Walsh family, grandparents, aunts and distance uncles alike loved him. That was until Connor had to go and ruin it anyway. After that, they both got the cold shoulder. James could leave, escape the disappointed looks but Connor couldn’t, stuck with them for what felt like eternity. His only escape was being sent to boarding school. When people found out what he was like there, well then he seeked refuge in other things.

James and Connor. They were like brothers. Well that was until late into the night when he snuck into connor’s bedroom and slid under the blanket. Mid-summer, cool air blowing through the open window, curtains open slightly from the wind, allowing the moonlight to stream in. For a while now James had been acting odd. Hands brushing, touches lingering too long, stares intense and lustful.

“what’re you doin’ ‘ere” tired words fell from Connors mouth, his eyes barely open as the bed dipped beside him. He knew who it was, Gemma always knocked before entering-an awkward encounter on his behalf when he walked in on Gemma changing, both vowed to knock before entering one another’s rooms. His mother never come in his room, it just wasn’t who she was, preferring to shout up the stairs or through the door when she needed him- which seemed to be less and less as he grew older. So that could only leave one person. The long fingers of James’ hand snaking their way around Connors waist, dipping under the cotton of his shirt, gliding across the pale skin of his stomach.

A sharp intake of breath came involuntary to Connor, his stomach jumping at the contact. He turned his face to see James laying on his side, eyes staring at him.

“What are you doing here?” Connor’s voice is firmer now, more aware; James only skims his fingers up connor’s flat chest again, his shirt now bunched up under his armpits. The cool air causing Goosebumps to rise.

“You know Connor,” James’ face is centimetres away from Connors, breaths puffing against one another’s faces.  “You’re pretty,” their lips are almost touching now. A nervous laugh escapes Connors mouth. His heart pounding in his chest, so loud he can barely hear what James is actually saying. Connor should stop him but he can’t. Things have been off lately, James always staring, brushing his hand across his lower back when their alone. Little things that he’s never done before. But Connor likes it. He likes the attention. It makes him feel special, someone is touching him and he didn’t know how lonely he felt when James hadn’t done it all today.

James is closing the gap without Connor registering and then there’s soft warm lips moving against his own. He kisses back, but it’s messy. Connors first kiss. And it’s with his sister’s boyfriend.

There’s a wet tongue prodding gently at his lips, James tasting tentatively with his tongue. Connor opens his mouth, the tongue dragging behind his teeth which are weighed down by metal. It elicits a low moan in the back of his throat. His cheeks redden at the noise he didn’t know he was capable of making. James pulls back with a chuckle and it makes Connor self-conscious. He shrinks back slightly and regret begins to pool at the pit of his stomach.

But James’ hand is still running down his body, he’s moved on from his chest, beginning to run it over the side of connor’s leg. It makes Connor feel something, something he isn’t too familiar with. Arousal. Sure he’s had a wank before, like all the boys his age, to a playboy, he just didn’t find it to be all that pleasurable like the other boys had first implied.

But this felt different. There was a weight next to him, a warm weight. And it made something stir inside him. James’ hand running against his naked thigh, pushing up the fabric of his pants. A shudder runs through connor’s body- he doesn’t know if it’s the cold or pleasure. Connor’s hand comes down to still James’ where it rested just below his hip under his pants, “We can’t,” tumbles out.

James had one of those voices and Connor always found it difficult not believing him, “It’s okay. I promise.” It was deep and calming.

Slowly, Connor lifted his fingers off, one by one, hand shaking in anticipation.

James retracted his hand from connor’s hip and placed it gently on the front of connor’s pants. Slowly he began a soft rubbing motion.

Gasps filled the air as James continued to palm Connor, who was getting more aroused as the minuets ticked by.

Connor’s fingers twisting in the bed sheets as James continued to work his wrist. Connor’s eyes are closed but he can feel James’ intense stare on him. Watching him.

Connor tries to form a string of words but only manages something that sounds like it could be James’ name, right before he’s about to come. Connor expected James to keep going. But he was basing this from the limited heterosexual porn one of the boys in his class had sent to him.

But he doesn’t. James stops the movement and lifts his hand away.

He doesn’t even look back at Connor as he climbs from the bed and heads towards the door, presumably to go back to his sisters room where he’ll slide back into her bed. He doesn’t look back once.

Connors mouth hangs open, brow scrunched up in confusion, his dick getting softer as he takes in the situation. He doesn’t know what happened but he feels ashamed and dirty.

He shouldn’t have done that. His sister’s boyfriend nearly gave him an orgasm. This wasn’t allowed. It’s not fucking fair how difficult it is to keep himself under control like this. The ball is in James’ court, and Connor will relented to that easily, as long as James kept touching him. It’s not fucking fair because James initiated it and Connor knows it’s wrong but… But James makes him feel special, like he’s wanted and good for something.

 

\--

Tossing and turning. Thinking about what happened. How it made him feel. And he doesn’t know.  Connor huffs and throws the blanket away from his legs grabbing his towel from the back of the door and heading down the hall passed his sisters door – mum makes them keep it open, James is curled around Gemma, hand planted under her shirt, resting on her ribs. Connor walks on, pretending that the sharp pain in his chest isn’t jealousy. There wasn’t anything to be jealous about, nothing had even really happened, he tried to tell himself. But it only made him hurt more, the fact that it was over so soon, over before it had even begun.

He’s on autopilot, in a daze. He’s under the hot spray of water before he realises it, soaping up his hair. It getting long now, he probably should cut it but he kind of likes it. A long floppy fringe that covers half his face and with the hair cut short at the back.  It’s what all the boys have at the minuet. His braces and thick glasses don’t do any favours in helping him fit in and his nerdy tendencies seem to leak through which tends to drive friends away.

His mind drifts back to James. Caramel skin, dark hair flits through his brain. If he was admitting it to himself and no one else, ever; then maybe he could say he had a crush on James. He’s not sure when it started.

Probably when they were messing about with the hose, splashing water about last year. James had shed his wet t-shirt and continued to attack Conner with water and tackle him to the grass. There was a funny feeling in his stomach when they rolled around in the dirt. Connor knew what it was, it felt the same way as his friend had described when he looked at the pretty girl with boobs in their class. Connor didn’t see what all the fuss was about. Sure, she had nice hair and pretty eyes, her skin a golden colour but he didn’t understand why all the boys were falling over her. 

It was around that time when Connor silently admitted to himself that maybe girls weren’t his thing. He spent restless nights googling what it meant, if he was sick or programed wrong. The website had told him it was called homosexuality and that 1 in 10 people were. That it was completely normal and you don’t chose something like this- you were born with it. He spent more nights tossing and turning thinking about it before coming to a realisation that if he didn’t really think about it, then it was okay.

 

\---

Almost every night, Connor would wake to find a firm hand on his dick, lips on his neck, hands groping at his chest. Only James was unpredictable. Sometimes he would let Connor come, other times he would leave to go back to Gemma’s room. It was the same thing, James touching Connor, never the other way around. Connor had tried to initiate something with him, but every time James would whisper, “If you’re good, I’ll let you touch me,” Connor’s earlobe between his teeth.

Connor didn’t know what this was. They never talked about it. They acted as if everything was normal if it was light out, only indulging in whatever _this_ was when the skies were dark.

It wasn’t like any other night, James woke Connor by licking a strip up his chest. A gentle hum escapes the back of his throat. Connor sits up, pushing James off him slightly. He’s grown more confident over the past month or so it’s been going on, his movements bolder.

He’s been thinking about this all day. Tonight he was going to take control. Or try at least. James was much bigger that Connor’s slim frame. Climbing over James, Connor stilled above him, staring at his lips. He leant down and kissed him, smiling into his lips. Connor could feel his own heartbeat racing as he did. He had initiated the kiss. He felt so good but he knew it was wrong, like he did every time they did this but desire and want overpowered the rational side of his brain. James’ hands crept up to thread through connor’s hair. He leant back into the touch. Connor melted into the kiss. It was soft and warm, like a cup of hot chocolate on a cold day. It was comforting and loving and James’ arms slid down to wrap around Connor and pull him closer.

Connor was on top, trembling arms holding him just slightly above James, elbows bent slightly, heart pounding, breathes laboured. Lazy kisses turned to heated passionate kisses full of all tongue then slowing back down to calm sloppy kisses. Connor was now enveloped in James’ arms, lost in the movement of their lips. Hips began to move, ever so slightly. Connor’s not sure who started it but what he does know is that it feels bloody fantastic. The space between their kisses grow shorter and shorter, the kisses themselves growing hungrier, more heated and passionate.

Soon enough, they were kissing fiercely, James’ tongue pressing at his lips, Connor gently scraping at James’ bottom lip with his teeth, their hands roaming each other earnestly… confidence and adrenalin spurring Connor on. Hips grinding against one another in a slow rhythm, James controlling it. James’ embrace tightened, and they rolled over- suddenly, Connor was on his back and pressed into the sheets, James pinning him on the mattress with a smirk. James’ hands slid down to frame his slim hips, fingering at the waistband. Pulling them gently down, Connor’s arousal spikes, setting him on edge slightly. James grinned and began to kiss down his neck, gently nosing at the hollow of his throat, then leaving wet kisses on the skin there but not leaving any marks- never leaving marks, a small amount of insecurity shimmering just behind Connor’s hazel eyes. James doesn’t see. He’s too busy trying to get rid of their pants. The shirts aren’t a concern at the minuet.

Now they were both free of their pants, pressed together, both seeking the friction they so desperately wanted. James rolls his hips down again, grinding their cocks together. They both let out choked moans, clutching at each other. James leant down to kiss Connor again, but they’d barely started when Connor broke away, gasping for breath. The feeling becoming overwhelming.

\----

They resituated themselves, and James pushed into him this time, his chest to Connor’s back as they laid side by side, James’ arms wrapped around him as he moved slowly. Connor bit his lip, closing his eyes as he tried to relax. Connor gasped, clinging to James’ hands as James kissed his shoulder, moving more steadily against him.

It got easier, somehow, and suddenly Connor was laying on his stomach and James was on top of him. Connor moaned quietly as James did something right, hitting him in just the right spot. Connor bit down on his pillow, because he didn’t want to make too much noise. James didn’t like it when he did.

 Above him, James stilled, “I love you,” muttered against the back of Connor neck and then he was coming and unable to move as his body spasmed. Connor breathed out as James pulled out of him, falling in the bed beside him. They kissed lazily, Connor’s entire body feeling like a limp noodle. He hadn’t come, but he wasn’t really hard anymore. All that he was left with afterwards was a sense of dread and a sore body.

They continued to exchange lazy, unhurried kisses, just the soft press of lips and warm breath until James pulled away, collecting his clothes and pulling them on. It wasn’t until James had left that it hit him at what he’s said. ‘I love you’, warmth replaced the dread and a smile spread onto his wrecked face.

 

\----

 

It was Gemma who found them, trousers down James’ ankles; connor’s mouth around her boyfriend’s dick as he laid on Connor’s bed. The bedroom door swung open, banging against the wall with the force of it, Gemma fuming in the door way.

James’ eyes flying open and the tight fist he hand in Connor’s hair, going lax. Connor’s being pushed away, falling on the ground before he know it, James tucking himself back in, storming after Gemma whose shouting up a storm.

It’s Christmas. Everyone’s here. The grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins. Everyone who adores James.

Connor’s pulling himself up off the ground, following Gemma and James, desperate to stop whatever’s about to happen. He doesn’t know when the tears started streaming down his face, but they’re coming at an alarming rate, he tries desperately to stop them. James’ got Gemma cornered at the bottom of the stairs, just about hidden from the interfering grandmother who is just around the corner.

They’re talking in hushed whispers, Connor can’t make out what they’re saying from the top of the stairs but he can see the tears that are pouring down his sister’s face. All he knows is that he caused them. Those tears were because of him, it only makes him cry harder. His whole body shacking as he tries to conceal the sobs that threaten to wreak through him.

Their mom comes around the corner, two wine glasses in her hands. She comes to an abrupt stop and nearly drops the glasses, not expecting to find Gemma sobbing, James clutching at her hands desperately, Connor siting on the stairs, face buried in his hands.

“What happened?” her voice is filled with panic but it’s quiet, not wanting to draw attention to whatever is going on, she’s looking between the couple.

“He’s,” Gemma’s jabbing a finger towards Connor, their mother looks up at him, brows creasing. “Been sleeping with my boyfriend.” Her words are like knives in connor’s heart. She said it with such ferocity and venom, the tears flow freely for both of them.

Their mom turns to look at James, whose head is bowed, “Get out of my house.” Her voice is low and threatening, almost challenging him to complain.

He goes easily without even looking at Connor. Connor’s standing, heart in his throat, he at the bottom of the stairs ready to after him, the love of his life, but his mother’s got hold of his arm in a tight grip that will no doubt bruise. He tries to get away, his mind is muddled and he’s still got tears streaming down his face.

“Mum let him go. The little slut can have James.” Gemma’s words are loud and the conversations in the lounge stops. Their mother lets go and Connor’s out of there, socked feet getting wet in the melting snow on the drive way.

“James, wait” he calls, James is already half way down the long driveway.

“What. What do you want?” his voice is hard and angry, Connor hasn’t seen him like this before, it makes him want to shrink down.

“Where are you going? What are we going to do?” Connor’s voice shakes and he wishes it didn’t. James turns around, there’s a cruel smile on his face. Connor’s confused. “What’s so funny?”

“You! You don’t get it. _We_ aren’t going to do anything. We’re over. I don’t care about you! We were never together!” James is laughing now, Connor’s eyebrow crunched together. He doesn’t get it. He voices it too.

“But you said you love me.” His voice is small and cracks too many times.

“I lied.” James doesn’t even sound sorry, “I never loved you. You were just a good time. Someone who was quick to drop trousers for me, be my little slut because your sister won’t put out.” James has turned and is walking back down the driveway, hips swaying from side to side, almost teasingly. Connor is hurt, shame and regret pooling in his stomach.

He stands in the cold, wet seeping into his socks, hair blowing in the wind, tears leaving streaks down his face and cooling in the wind.

He’s dreading the walk of shame. The guilt he already feels is only going to intensify.

There was many times in their relationship- if it could even be called that, where Connor had questioned to himself if it was genuine. But James had kisses him, long and hard and the worries always slipped away.  

His legs take him to the door, hand reaching for the doorbell, he stops to take a big shaky breath before putting up a wall to his emotions. The door is opening and he’s face to face with his mother’s hard stare. She wasn’t a nasty woman per say… just not inclined to give into nurturing tendencies since her husband left. Connor flinches, her stare boring into him, he looks away and pushes past her. His sister is being surrounded and comforted by their entire family, everyone looking at him as he walks through. Hard, judgmental stares follow him as he runs up the stairs.

He gets to his room, slamming the door and sliding down it. Overwhelming emotions taking over. Rocking back and forth, Connor willed himself not to cry, not again. He wasn’t a poof. It had been too good to be true. Why would someone like James ever love someone like Connor?

He probably made the whole thing up. Made the first move without realising. Little fantasy’s in his head that he’d taken too far. He hadn’t meant to come onto him like that, but he’d thought the signs had been there. James couldn’t stop staring at his lips, always looking at them. He’d made a mistake, James hadn’t actually wanted him; he never had. When he said he loved him, it was all lies, it left a hurt feeling in his body. It crushed him, thinking that James could actually like him -- could want him. He had no doubt in his mind that he wanted James. He was drawn to him. But it was over. That was probably his fault as well.

He thought back to what felt like hours ago but in reality it was probably only ten minutes since he had James’ dick in his mouth. It had been his fault, before, cupping James’ erection under the table. Sneaking away without being noticed, scampering away to the bedroom. James leading the way. He was okay to be the one pushing Connor onto the bed, groping his ass, his hands never stilling over one area, like he couldn’t decide what part of Connor he wanted to touch more. They managed to get down their underwear, frantically, gasping into each other’s open mouths as they moved against each other desperately. James’ arms wound up to grip at his back of Connor’s hair and pull him downwards until Connor sunk down, taking his dick into his mouth. James’ ruff grip forcing connor’s head further and further.

But everything was over now. He laid on the floor, he can’t bear to be on the bed where James had previously been, curled into a ball and let the sudden wave of exhaustion take over. His dreams were a mix of James’ sweet touches on his skin and James’ words said on the driveway accompanied by hard grips on his skin.

He wakes with a start, water on his face, he’s not sure if its sweat or tears but he doesn’t really care anymore. There’s someone hammering on his door, trying to open it but it keeps hitting his back, digging in painfully. It’s painful enough that he wants to move. But he doesn’t. And he doesn’t know why. But it’s providing a form of relief that lifts a pressure off his chest and it’s easier to breath now.

“Connor open this goddam door now.” It’s his mother and she just swore in the God’s name. A highly religious woman she is so the swearing can only mean one thing. He heaves in a sigh, letting the door jamb into his back once more before pushing himself up on weak arms. The door jambs into him again and he welcomes it, the door opens wider and his mother stops trying to get in with such a ferocity. He opens it so he’s face to face with her cold face. “Clean yourself up and meet me downstairs.” And with that she’s turning on her heel and heading back down the hall without making eye contact.

Before he knows it he’s turning the bathroom lock and looking into the mirror, seeing what must be his reflection staring back at him. He barely recognises himself. His eyes red and puffy, skin pale, black circles under his eyes and shaky hands. He in the shower, soaping up his body, the temperature too high when his eyes spot the razor on the side of the bath. His hands shake as he reaches for it. He tells himself he shouldn’t but the overwhelming sense of suffocating is too much. The cuts sting like a mother fucking bitch when the water first hits them washing the burgundy blood away. After the initial sting, the pressure in his chest lets up and for a minute everything is okay. The water is turning cold now and he knows he should have been downstairs ages ago. He keeps the cooling water on the cuts running until the blood clots and they’ve more or less stopped bleeding.

\-----

He gets down stairs, after pulling on his clothes from yesterday in the rush which just makes him feel dirty and need another shower, he finds his mother in her office. But she’s not alone. His dad is there. The man who he hasn’t seen in nearly 4 years is sitting in front of him in his old office. Confusion etched its way in, Connor didn’t even know the man, he could probably pick the man out in a crowd but that was the extent to the knowledge of his father even if he had lived with the man for 10 years prior. “What are you doing here?” if Connor wasn’t already in so much shit he’s pretty sure he’d be getting a slap round the back of the head for talking like that.

“I’ve told your father of what has been occurring.” His mother says it like it’s a business decision they’ve made. “   He’s deci-”, she cuts herself off, “We’ve decided it would be best for you to attend New Hampshire Boarding School,” and then there’s leaflets being thrusted into his face.

Connor opens his mouth to say something but his father beats him to it, “This is not up for discussion. You will be attending in the New Year, everything has already been arranged.”

He’s not sure what it is, but it feels a lot like they’re giving up on him. The pressure is back in his chest, his mind boggled until his reached his room and his fingers are digging into the cuts, red with blood.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
